It Must Be This Way
by Nightwitch87
Summary: Dumbledore "puts his affairs in order", but there are some things he can't make right.There are some things he can't disclose, some things that will remain unsaid forever. There is only "the plan", only what Harry must do. At the Hog's Head, HBP setting.


Disclaimer: If I had written Harry Potter or in any way profited from its sales, I probably wouldn't be sitting here writing fanfiction. I am not making any profit here. No copyright infringement intendeed.

Author's Note: As always, please take a moment to review. A lot of work goes into this. Constructive criticism is appreciated.

**It Must Be This Way**

'All right, Phillip…time to go home…go on now…' He clapped him hard on the shoulder.

The shabby man raised his head from his folded arms, looking blankly ahead without focus. 'Jus' one more-'

'No. And don't expect me to carry you.' He turned over the last few of the stools, stacking them on the bar while thinking longingly of his bed. He had planned to wipe down the tables, but couldn't be bothered now. What was the point, anyway, with the filth people dragged in here? He looked at Phillip, whose beard was speckled with drops and clumps. He had slid off his stool lazily, but was still leaning against the bar. 'What, waitin' to grow roots, are you?'

At this moment, the door opened and a hooded, slender figure slipped inside. He knew immediately who it was. Grabbing Phillip by the shoulders, he steered him towards the door. 'Out you go.' The regular customer was too drunk to protest, stumbling into the street. Aberforth slammed the door shut behind him, bolting all three locks with a flick of his wand. Another flick, and the curtains were drawn closed – not that you could see much out of these windows, anyway.

'Good evening, Aberforth' a quiet voice greeted him.

'Evening indeed…' He turned around and tucked his wand away, wiping his hands on his apron.

'I am sorry to disturb you at such a late hour.'

'Why the secrecy, Albus?'

'No secrecy. I knew you were busy earlier, and I have urgent matters to discuss in private.' His brother took off his travelling cloak and sat down on the remaining stool which had been occupied by Phillip, unfazed by the lack of an invitation to do so.

No secrecy? That would be news to him. Albus usually just came in the normal way – or at least as 'normally' as he was capable of- unless there was a good reason not to do so. Aberforth rounded the bar again, grabbed a bottle of fire whiskey and set it down on the counter between them along with two glasses.

'Er, thank you, but not today.'

'Suit yourself.' He poured himself a glass and drank most of it in one large gulp, relishing the intense burn. Somehow, conversations with his brother usually required a couple of drinks for both of them. He looked at Albus properly for the first time in the candlelight. He was pretty sure a fire whiskey would have done him some good. His body was as upright as ever, but his face looked tired, worn, with more shadows and lines than even the last time he'd seen it. Maybe he had been travelling again, on one of those mysterious trips that people kept talking about. Aberforth held up the bottle once more, gesturing to the other glass, but Albus merely shook his head in silence, studying his withered hand with mild interest.

'You might want to think about retirement sometime.'

'Retirement?' His lips curled slightly. 'I'm afraid I don't particularly enjoy wizard's bingo.'

'What are you here for then?' Aberforth asked abruptly.

The smile slid from his brother's face, his forehead creasing in concern. 'You are quite right; we have important business to discuss. Best to get to the point.'

'Order business? Because I'm not-'

'No. Not directly. Your information has been most helpful in this respect. This' Albus sighed, 'is a different matter. It concerns the future of Hogwarts.'

'I'm not a teacher-'

'Please, Aberforth, listen to me. You know as well as I do that Lord Voldemort is getting stronger, gaining power. There may well come a time when he infiltrates the school. If he does, many of the students will not be safe – muggle-borns, opponents. They may have to flee or require other assistance. His followers will not hesitate to harm children they consider inferior.' His voice was tinged with a hint of bitterness. 'There could be a battle, and I don't want the children involved in that.'

'Well, protect them from it then. Send 'em home.'

'That may not be possible if it is a sudden attack or if the Ministry take-'

'Surely a great wizard such as yourself-'

'I may not be in a position to do anything.'

'Oh, and I will?' He couldn't hide his annoyance with the implied request. This was so like Albus, expecting something of other people but not asking them directly, trying to guilt them into it, telling them there was only one right choice.

'You are-'

'What do you want from me? You come here in the middle of the night...what exactly do you want me to do?'

Albus was looking at him intently now, fixing him with that searching gaze that penetrated people. Probably trying to perform legilimency. Aberforth did not blink. He was not about to look away first. He focused on the pair of blue eyes, unreadable in their expression, and it struck him that he hadn't looked at his brother this way for a long time. He tried to clear his mind of the thought just in case but it remained, lingering as his question lingered in the air around them.

'I want you to tell me you will help them in whatever way you can.'

'I'm not inside that bloody school!'

'You have your ways.'

'And what am I going to do against a bunch of Death Eaters…think they'll stop because of one old man? Think they'll stop hurting kids if they see me wave my wand around?' He knew Albus believed in individual resistance, in all that noble honour stuff, but even he couldn't be that deluded.

'I think you know that your help would be more beneficial in subtle ways.'

Yes, Albus would assume he knew other people's thoughts. 'Hiding, transporting, passing on information, that kind of thing?'

'Precisely.'

'And what makes you think I'd want to do that?'

'It is the right thing to do' Albus replied simply in that annoyingly patient way.

'You do it, then.'

'I can't.'

'Why not?'

'I won't be in a position to do so' he repeated.

Aberforth hated his cryptic ways. Of course Albus would only pass him as much information as he thought was necessary for persuasion, as he thought was consistent with his own goals. Why ever be honest with people, when you could drop hints and influence them to do your bidding without it? He wasn't going to play along. 'Going into hiding?' He knew the answer to his question, but it pleased him to prod a bit, questioning the courage of the noble Albus Dumbledore.

'No.' He seemed unperturbed by the suggestion.

'Then I suggest you do your thing and I'll do mine.'

'We are all in this. We can only win if we stand-'

'Oh, save your speeches, Albus. I'm not responsible for your lot. They've got parents for that, you know. I run a pub.'

'You may be the only person in Hogsmeade who is in a position to help.'

'And right now, I'm tired.'

'We all are.'

'You've got no right to-'

'Aberforth!' Albus made a fleeting motion as if to grasp his hand but thought better of it, putting his arm back on the counter. He had shown a hint of emotion for the first time, frustration mixed with something else. 'I know you care. You have helped students in the past. Please don't let the fact that it is me who is asking you to do something taint your judgment.'

Aberforth was taken by surprise. His brother was making the typical assumptions again, but it was the tone that had startled him. Albus' voice had changed, adopting a piercing, almost desperate quality. 'Why ask me then?'

'There is no time. I wouldn't ask you if it were not important. I need to know that you will do what you can.' He had regained his composure quickly, but was clasping the arm of his withered hand, squeezing it slightly.

Aberforth hesitated. A part of him really wanted to decline his brother's request, to show him that it was none of his business, that he couldn't control him. But he also knew that it would be a lie. He had tried to keep his head down, too tired of war to desire a new one, but somehow, he always ended up involved in the mess anyway. He just couldn't say no. Annoying as some of the Hogwarts brats were, he had a soft spot for them. And Albus…well…a tinge of sympathy flared up inside him as he watched his brother rub his arm subtly, consumed by the idea that these kids would be in danger.

'I'll see what I can do' he said gruffly, pouring himself another glass of fire whiskey.

'Thank you.' Albus smiled at him in earnest.

'Can't promise anything.'

'I understand.' Aberforth held up the bottle once more with a questioning look, and Albus nodded this time. 'Perhaps a drop wouldn't hurt.'

He poured him a small glass and his brother gulped it down quickly, eyes closed. He gave a slight shudder and set it back down, taking a deep breath.

'What's the matter?'

'There is something else we must discuss, Aberforth.'

Of course. Why hadn't he seen it coming? Once he got a foot in the door, Albus would keep pushing until it opened completely. Next he would ask him to use the Hog's Head as headquarters for an underground resistance movement or to disguise himself as a goat and enter the school as a spy. 'Naturally.'

'You know Harry Potter…'

'Potter? Skinny lad? Dark hair and…oh yes, some kind of scar…' Albus did not react to his sarcasm. ' 'course I know Potter. You don't need to be a scholar to hear things. The boy tried to start his little underground club in here. Not too bright, is he?'

A spark flashed in Albus' eyes, a fleeting smile. Self-indulgent pride. 'He means well, but he can be rather impulsive.'

He gave the comment a dismissive wave. 'He's a kid.'

'He is almost of age.'

'He's a school boy who thinks he's got to save the world because some lunatic made a prophecy years ago.'

'A prophecy Voldemort followed.'

'Well, Riddle never had much sense either' he mumbled, scratching an itchy spot in his beard.

'Maybe so, but he has set everything in motion to fulfill the prophecy' Albus explained pensively, a serious expression on his face now. 'He's been after Harry for years.'

'So when are you finally going to send him into hiding? You said yourself the school won't be safe forever. You can't always watch him. There have been near-misses. Send him away, Albus.'

'I wish I could.'

'Of course you can! Just do a Fidelius charm or better yet, send him out of the country, as far away as possible. You've got links abroad. Change his looks, give him a new name, and off he is. Might even protect that school of yours.'

Albus shook his head slowly. 'It wouldn't. Harry has got to-'

'He hasn't 'got to' do anything' Aberforth interrupted. 'Don't you go putting that nonsense into people's heads. Do you want him to make it or not?'

'It isn't that simple, Aberforth. Voldemort-'

'To hell with Voldemort!' He was shouting now, shouting into his brother's unnervingly calm face. It wasn't that he cared about the Potter boy too much –he didn't even know him- it was Albus who infuriated him. It was the self-righteousness of him, his stubborn conviction that only he understood, that he knew what was 'for the best'. It was the fact that he could talk placidly about who would have to do what, who would live and who would die, in quite a detached manner. He hadn't changed one bit. 'What does it matter what he wants?'

'This conversation upsets you' Albus said matter-of-factly. 'Will you let me have my say, or am I to stand here and let you rage at me without making my case?'

No shit, how observant. Aberforth bit back a retort, digging his fingernails into his palms to restrain himself. It took all his effort not to storm out of the room or better, to pull out his wand. After a moment, he gave his brother a curt nod.

'Harry' Albus continued, 'has a difficult time ahead of him. He will have to face Voldemort eventually and when he does, which may be years from now, he needs all the help he can get. He may seem to have specific goals that don't appear to make sense, but he can be trusted. He must be trusted.'

Aberforth merely stared at his brother, who looked more tired and weary now than at any point before. Was he understanding him correctly? The kid was to take on Voldemort one day, possibly on his own? 'That's insane.'

'It is…difficult, but not impossible.'

'It's sick. Why don't you do it yourself?'

'I am working on it, but I have reason to believe that I will not be able to destroy him utterly.'

Typical, there was the secrecy again. Flouting the fact that he thought he knew something no one else did, the great puppeteer. 'So you're making Potter do it for you? That's convenient.'

'He wants to fight. It is not up to me to deprive him of this option.'

'He wants to fight? It's his choice, is it now?' he sneered. 'It's got nothing to do with him doing whatever you tell him to? You take a nice little orphan kid, let him get beat up the first few years, then give him a home and fill his mind with all sorts of rubbish about bravery, honour, sacrifice and who knows what else. Funnily enough, he's always the one who ends up risking his life, being sacrificed. A perfect martyr. But it's all for _the greater good_, eh?'

Something flared up in Albus as if a spell had hit him. He jumped to his feet, nearly knocking over his stool. 'It is not the same thing!' His skin was a colourless white, the candlelight reflected in his spectacles. Aberforth took it in and for a split second, he thought about his brother's crooked nose, about how he had broken it that day many years ago, about the pride in Albus that had led him to refuse to fix it by magic. Forever showing. It intensified the resentment crawling in his very skin. 'This isn't like that. It's not about her…' The strong voice seemed to fail.

'You won't even say her name!'

'Don't-'

'Ariana!'

'Don't drag her into this…'

'You're a coward!' Aberforth spat out. 'You…you come here with your speeches about fighting and "save the children, Aberforth", "do the right thing, Aberforth". But really, what's it to you if one or two or a hundred die, as long as they die for the right reasons? Doesn't matter, does it, if one wizard kid is cheated out of-'

'Enough!' Albus shouted over him. 'That's enough!' He buried his face in his hands, leaning against the counter.

Aberforth took a shuddering breath, wiping his sweaty palms on his apron. A squirming animal seemed to move inside his stomach, making it impossible to swallow. He had broken the code, their unspoken agreement to never, ever mention 'her', although Aberforth couldn't pretend he hadn't noticed his brother's eyes resting on Ariana's painting the few times he had been upstairs. There was nowhere to go from here. Hearing Albus' gasps, he half expected him to start sobbing then and there, and he wasn't sure if he could take it. He was relieved to find that when his older brother looked up again, his face was perfectly dry.

'It matters' Albus broke the silence at last. 'More than anything. Do not think me indifferent. But there are things that I can't…' His gaze surveyed the ceiling, seemingly interested in the darkness.

Aberforth glared at him expectantly. He had never heard his brother lose track in the middle of a sentence before. 'Well?'

'It must be this way' he said simply, as if this explained everything. Aberforth shook his head, grumbling but too exasperated to formulate a solid objection. Mental, that's what it was. His brother stepped back from the counter, picked up his travelling cloak and put it back on in one swift motion. 'Thank you for the whiskey, Aberforth.'

He gave a non-commital 'hmph' in response, moving around the bar to pick up the last stool. He could feel Albus' gaze still on him, and met it with the sort of 'what do you want' look that was effective in keeping Hogwarts students out of his pub. Albus smiled slightly, but his eyes were filled with the sort of watery expression usually reserved for injured unicorn foals. It looked quite idiotic.

As his brother moved towards the door, Aberforth unlocked it with a lazy flick of his wand. Albus turned the knob with his healthy hand, but paused once more. He glanced back and something flickered in his smile – or had he only imagined it? He opened his mouth and hesitated. 'Good night then, Aberforth.'

' 'Night.'

The door closed behind him.


End file.
